Discontented Winter

 Now is the winter of my discontent—or perhaps it's the weather of my discontent. We've had some rough winter weather in the last week or two.

While the predicted big snow storm in late January didn't happen in my part of Franklin County, we did get several inches of ice instead. In some ways this was way worse than snow because ice can't be easily shoveled. In many cases, it couldn't be plowed off the roads. Because temperatures were in the teens or lower for over a week, melting didn't happen. County schools have been closed since January 26.

Arlo, Grover, and Rufus check out what the ice on my deck looked like. They're probably glad they're house cats.

Thankfully, someone scraped our driveway. Keep in mind that this is ice, not snow.

Last Saturday we got a few inches of snow on top of the week-old ice.

The best way to deal with this dreadful weather is to stay inside and cuddle up with a friend. Chloe and Tanner demonstrate how to do this:

Today is Ground Hog Day, and the rodent saw his shadow so we'll get to prolong our discontent with six more weeks of winter. A couple decades ago I wrote a groundhog poem for a Virginia Poetry Society contest. (It didn't win.) This dreadful poem is as good a way as any to end this post about the weather,

The Groundhog

The groundhog, I’m fairly certain,

Lives behind no silken curtain,

Lounges on no chaise or chair,

Wears no garments but his hair.

The groundhog, I do believe,

Keeps no secrets up his sleeve

Since he doesn’t wear a shirt.

He spends his days in digging dirt.

The lowly groundhog, I have found,

Makes his home beneath the ground,

Shuns townhouse and doublewide,

And makes do with his hole’s inside.

This large rodent, I have learned,

Has—of necessity—luxury spurned.

Both his needs and wants are few.

He only does what he needs to do.

But every winter, he has a day when

He ventures forth from cozy den

As his fans eagerly watch and wait

To see what he’ll prognosticate.

When the sun is out in force,

The groundhog’s shadow appears, of course;

If he sees it, we can be sure

Six weeks of winter we’ll endure.

If clouds prevail and sun can’t shine,

No shadow means weather will be fine.

The groundhog really doesn’t care;

He just returns to his cozy lair

Underground, so snug and deep,

That sheltered him for his winter sleep.

About his forecast, he doesn’t worry

As humans do each February.

* * *

Ice Storm Aftermath

 This weekend the county iced over. Freezing rain fell Friday night and, by Saturday morning, all the trees were coated with ice. Light freezing rain continued off and on throughout the day.

We were lucky—we weren't among the 12,000 who lost power. We didn't have to drive on roads blocked by fallen trees. None of or trees fell, but many lost limbs. Sunday afternoon, after the the ice had melted, I took these pictures in our yard.

Many of our pine trees lost limbs. Below is some damage in the lower part of our front yard. . . .

. . . and near the road.

The crape myrtles lost a few limbs . . .

. . . and some of the redbud trees did too.

But the pines in our side yard were hit the worst.

This limb came down with a bird's nest attached to it. Every spring grackles nest high in the pines, o I assume this nest is one of theirs.

This is the route I travel via golf-cart to feed the outside cats at the old horse trailer. I can't travel it until the limbs are removed, so I have to take a long way through the former pasture to get to the other side of the trailer.

The yard is soft because of so much rain—and snow last weekend—that my golf-cart has plowed up some tracks.

Here's a closer look at where one of the limbs broke.

In some places the golf-cart tracks are covered by some good-size limbs.

Here's the view from the pasture side of the pines. I normally drive on the other side of this tree when I start down the trail. But not today.

Cats were waiting for me when I approached from the pasture.

They knew the drill—go to the trailer and wait for curb service. Normally, I'd park in front of the trailer, but there's a big pile of limbs in my parking space. Luckily the limbs didn't hit the trailer.

After being served, Skippy chows down.

Cedrick stays dry by eating under the trailer tongue. Other cats eat in a separate spot under the trailer.

The ice storm has been a big inconvenience, but the cats came through OK, the damage wasn't as bad as it could be, and we didn't lose power.

I'll be glad, though, when winter is over and spring finally arrives.

~